


Oregon

by Tarlan



Category: Zombieland (2009)
Genre: Community: smallfandomfest, M/M, Mama Didn't Raise No Criminal, Post-Movie(s), Trope Bingo Round 4
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-09
Updated: 2015-01-09
Packaged: 2018-03-06 21:42:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3149438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tarlan/pseuds/Tarlan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When they decide to part company, Columbus has to decide whether to go with Wichita or stick with Tallahassee.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Oregon

**Author's Note:**

> Written for **SmallFandomFest** FEST17 and **Trope Bingo** Round 4: Mama didn't raise no criminal

Eventually, it's just them again, driving down highways littered with dead cars and dead people... and undead people.

He thought they might stick together but barely a month after meeting up with the girls, Wichita decided she wanted to go east towards Texas while Tallahassee decided it was better to head north into Oregon. He wasn't sure what Tallahassee was expecting to find in Oregon but Tallahassee had been adamant it was the right direction to go.

As he looked out the passenger window, Columbus lost himself in thought as he dwelt on the options given to him barely three hours earlier.

He could have stuck with Wichita and her sister, even though the romance between him and Krista had fizzled out pretty quickly after the fairground rescue. He knew it had been hero worship on her part as he had taken down that bad-ass zombie clown to save her, literally killing his coulrophobia with a ' _test-your-strength_ ' sledgehammer. The shininess of romance had tarnished once they were back on the road, bickering over where to go and what to do, and buying her favor over this past month seemed to involve taking increasingly dangerous risks to appease her.

The problem was Wichita liked expensive, useless things just because they were once expensive, which was okay but the car had slowly filled with junk, breaking Rule #7: _travel light_. The one time he had stolen something from a jewelers - a diamond necklace for her - he'd felt so guilty it made him feel sick to his stomach. Stupid, but his parents had raised him to respect other people's property and it was a hard to unlearn his upbringing even in the face of a zombie apocalypse.

Her latest crazy idea had almost got him killed.

Turning on all the lights and sounds at the fairground had been stupid as it had attracted every zombie for miles, but at the time he'd kind of understood that it was something Krista had promised her sister. The motives behind some of her other crazy ideas were not so clear, such as entering a zombie-infested shopping mall on the pretext of looking for a gun store but instead heading further in, looking for a pair of hideously expensive sling backs and a tight-fitting dress that she would never be able to run in. It was frivolous and dangerous, and he had got cornered by a pack of zombies having broken Rule #22: _when in doubt, know your way out_.

The girls had made a run for it, leaving him as zombie bait, and he'd never been more relieved when Tallahassee jumped in with a rebel yell and a swinging machete to rescue him. It was only sheer luck some of those high heeled shoes were stilettos in a practical sense too.

By the time he and Tallahassee had fought their way out, the shoe store was littered with fully dead bodies, some with ladies shoes sticking out of their eye sockets or ears. It was surreal, and it bothered him. Not the zombies. They didn't bother him, not unless they were trying to eat him. What bothered him was the stupid risk he'd taken over a pair of fancy shoes - just to get laid.

Perhaps it was time to reinstate Rule #17: Don’t Be A Hero... or a mug.

The argument over where to head next had come only hours later when they saw a sign pointing to a Humvee dealership. Three brand new Humvees sat in the showroom gathering dust. It didn't take long to find the keys and discover they were all pre-filled with gas, though he was amazed no one had already grabbed them.

After disposing of the zombie in the bathroom - Rule #3: _beware of bathrooms_ \- he and Tallahassee cleaned up and pulled on fresh clothes. He hung back with Little Rock as Wichita and Tallahassee started arguing again, mostly about the Mall, and that was when she'd put him on the spot.

"Are you coming east with us?"

Option #1, should he go with Wichita?

He shook his head slowly. Wichita was trouble with her wacky ideas and stupid risks, and he wasn't sure of even his short term survival if he left with her and her sister. He looked at the Humvees sitting in the showroom; three Humvees, three of them.

Option #2, he could head off alone.

He could take one of the Humvees and hit the road alone, and no longer have to worry about watching anyone's back except his own. No more stupid risks, no more arguments. It had sounded okay in his head for a moment but then he recalled how he and Tallahassee had made a dash for the Mall's exit, surprised to find the car still there, though it was already moving. They had scrambled into the back seat of the car, both of them covered in zombie brains and blood as Wichita floored the gas.

Tallahassee had given him a look once the crazy in his eyes had died down; one of anger, frustration... relief.

He'd felt exhausted after the adrenaline rush and he'd ended up sleeping with his head in Tallahassee's lap, feeling sticky fingers stroking his blood and brain-matted hair. Without Tallahassee he wouldn't have made it out of that Mall alive, and he kind of liked having someone watching his back. Or rather, he liked knowing Tallahassee was watching his back.

This had led him to his third and best option.

Option #3, sticking with Tallahassee.

Going off on his own would break Rule #8: _get a kickass partner_ , and he couldn't deny Tallahassee fulfilled that role perfectly. It was as if the Zombie Apocalypse had been made just for him. They'd clicked from the start, working as a team when raiding places for food and gas, trusting each other in a way he had never quite learned to trust Wichita.

She'd already proved more than once that she'd abandon them to save herself if they ever got into a really dangerous situation.

Tallahassee was different. He was loyal. Trustworthy. He took only what they needed to survive, helping Columbus get over his initial discomfort of stealing. He recalled Tallahassee's exact words.

"Zombies don't have much use for guns, cars, and Twinkies."

So they split all the fuel they could find between them and transferred his and Tallahassee's few belongings from the car to their chosen Humvee. He said an emotional goodbye to the girls while Tallahassee merely tilted his hat and took the driver's seat; they hit the road while Wichita was still moving all her expensive yet worthless junk across.

Hours passed in silence, which was actually nice. He'd forgotten how comfortable he'd felt with just Tallahassee and the open road, feeling some of the weight of the last month dropping away with each mile separating him from Wichita. As if reading his thoughts, Tallahassee broke the silence.

"She wasn't good for you. She was going to get us both killed. Got her brains all scrambled."

"Yeah," he answered softly, because he was right. Wichita seemed set on a path to destruction and it saddened him that she would take Little Rock with her. "Still, it was nice not having to use my own hand for a while."

"I ain't got a problem with that."

"With masturbation?"

"With giving you a hand."

They fell into silence again while Columbus mulled over his words.

Later on, after they'd found a safe place to pull over for the night, Tallahassee made good on his word and gave him a hand, and after an awkward moment he reciprocated. Afterwards they sat back and ate one of the Twinkies Tallahassee had found in the Humvee salesman's desk drawer. As Columbus raised his hand and watched Tallahassee licked the creamy filling off his fingers, he smiled.

All those rules had kept him alive and sane, and sometimes those rules went well together. Case in point, Rule #8 and #32. Get a kickass partner and enjoy the little things.

"So what's in Oregon?"

Tallahassee stared at him for a moment, face barely visible in the darkness inside the Humvee.

"You and me. Just you and me."

And that made perfect sense.

END  
.


End file.
